The difficulty inherent in year-end lists, plus conversations with David First, Wrnlrd, and Chuck Johnson.

The rebirth of the Notekillers is both unlikely and inspiring. Formed in Philadelphia in 1976 by guitarist David First and drummer Barry Halkin (bassist Stephen Bilenky joined a year later), the trio played a cerebral brand of instrumental noise-rock. And they didn't last long, folding in 1981 after releasing just one 7". But in a 2002 issue of Mojo, Sonic Youth's Thurston Moore cited the single's influence on his own music. The Notekillers contacted Moore, and dominos began to fall-- a CD of archival material came out on Moore's Ecstatic Peace label, and the band started playing together again. They've just released their first album since reuniting, We're Here to Help, a scintillating blast of burly, twisting tunes that makes it sound like they never stopped.

In a sense, that's true, at least for First, who's been an active musician and composer for over three decades. He played in jazz legend Cecil Taylor's band in the 70s, before the Notekillers formed; after they broke up, he moved to New York and worked steadily on minimalist compositions, sound installations, audio-visual experiments, even an AIDS-crisis opera called The Manhattan Book of the Dead. His latest album is the massive 3xCD set Privacy Issues, a collection of drone-based work from the past 13 years released on Phill Niblock's XI label.

We talked to First via phone and email about the connections between his musical pursuits, the "is-ness" of the Notekillers, and the irresistible attraction of drone.

The Notekillers: "Eyelash" from We're Here To Help

The Notekillers: Eyelash

Pitchfork: So the Notekillers reunion came directly from Thurston talking about the single in Mojo?

DF: Oh, sure. Before that article, and maybe even a while after, if you would have told me that I'd be in the same room playing music with those other two guys, I would've said you were out of your mind. When Halkin first called me and told me that an old friend had called him and told him about all this, I really expected to find out it was a mistake. We didn't even know which magazine it was at first. So I felt pretty crazy writing to Thurston and asking him whether he had indeed name-checked us somewhere. But he immediately wrote back, filled in some details and, fairly quickly talk turned to putting the compilation together. It still seemed only like a nice dreamlike way to resolve all that long-ago unfinished business, but somehow, as we got closer to getting the disc out, we extended the fantasy to include reincarnation.

Pitchfork: Did you have the idea from the beginning that you would make new music?

DF: Yes, the first thing I made clear was that if we were going to do this, it needed to be a creative venture. I was totally uninterested in being an oldies act or a kind of tribute to ourselves. Certainly the plan included re-learning some of the old songs-- and that's how we started. But soon I started bringing in some brand new stuff. "Airport", the first song on We're Here to Help, was actually the very first thing I brought in-- the first new Notekiller composition since we broke up in 1981.

The Notekillers: "Airport" live, October 2010

Pitchfork: What feels different about doing it now compared to when the band was originally together in the late 70's?

DF: Personality-wise-- not a whole helluva lot! I've known these guys since elementary school, since before we even played instruments. And it can be quite easy for us to regress into the vast wealth of ridiculous riffs, jokes, and situations from our shared history. If you're talking about musically, I think I understand just a little bit more about things that were mostly intuited back then-- how certain timings and tones work, so I can be a little more analytical about things now. But I still try to keep that as an afterthought, in order to keep the spirit of discovery and surprise. In that sense, the process of creation and development of a Notekiller song has probably changed very little. I do think I've learned, in the ensuing years, how to be a more effective bandleader. And maybe, just maybe, we're a little better on our instruments.

Pitchfork: One of the things I like about We're Here to Help is that it's obviously pretty complex and precise, but it also has a loose feeling. It doesn't feel too anal or sterile.

DF: Well, maybe what you're hearing is us being as anal as we possibly can and just not being able to pull it off [laughs]. We're definitely always trying to do stuff that pushes us to our physical and mental limits. My personal definition of rock'n'roll is people attempting to do something that's beyond their ability to do it well. And whatever the outward contradictions, I do call us a rock'n'roll band.

The Notekillers at ATP's Nightmare Before Christmas 2006, England

Pitchfork: What is the process of putting together the songs, does it come out of jamming or does someone bring in an idea?

DF: Songs start with my bringing in the basic riffs for what you might call a verse and a chorus, an A and a B part...whatever. And sometimes a C and even a D. That's kind of the easy, or at least easier part. The hard part is finding that special, perfect way to order things-- how many times to do A before B and back and how the second verse differs from the first. That's all we got. There's no lyrics, so the variation-- the development-- has to come from the numbers games we play. Or how I isolate something new or how Halkin's or Bilenky's parts expand. But solving that equation can take weeks and months of trial and error until the call and response friction causes ignition. And each song is like starting over. Because somehow, no song's formula works for another. And that's the beauty of it all. Each song's destiny is embedded in its DNA. And our job is to reveal it.

Pitchfork: Within the structures that you write, is there some room for improvisation?

DF: Yes, but what I said about structure goes here too. Every improv must be song specific. It has to grow organically out of the particular elements involved or it's just glib self-expression. I hate when I feel like I'm the lead guitarist in a rock band. We all gotta be going somewhere strong together, you know?

The Notekillers: "Flamenco" from We're Here To Help

The Notekillers: Flamenco

Pitchfork: How much do you think the band's music originally was about time and place, being on the periphery of Punk and No Wave?

DF: Well, we were a bit in our own little world. We certainly were aware of all that and we too wanted to "rip it up and start over" or whatever that book was called. I read about the CBGB's scene early on and I still have my "Anarchy in the UK" 7". I'm sure it gave us a context to think about as well as a kind of kick in the ass. But we had all been playing for years at that point. I mean, before the Notekillers, I had just spent a year playing with Cecil Taylor and taking courses in analog and digital synthesis. So, inevitably, as much as we loved punk rock, our noise was coming from a slightly different place.

Pitchfork: I guess I'm curious about the songs being "about" something, and how much you think about that, given that it's instrumental so literal meanings aren't obvious.

DF: To me, everything in the world comes down to two categories: "about-ness" and "is-ness". "About" represents or describes something, while "Is" is the thing itself. We decided when we started out to minimize the "about" factor by eschewing lyrics, or even a singer, in order to best highlight the direct "is-ness"-- the unrefracted sound. But nothing is ever pure "is"-- we're consciously referencing musical history and various social and natural phenomena when we play, so I like to give clues-- titles-- that can give a simple, evocative hook into what picture or feeling welled up in my mind when I came up with the song. To explain what that particular "is-ness" is about-- or something like that! But actually, we never even introduce our songs live, so, with this album most people will be seeing titles for the first time.

Pitchfork: That's interesting, because I really like the titles on Privacy Issues. Is titling Notekillers songs a similar process?

DF: Yeah, sure. Notekillers titles are much shorter, but maybe that's in proportion to the length of the songs as compared to my drone pieces. I like to go for a certain over-the-top opulence when naming the drone pieces whereas the song titles are all about concision, I guess. I mean, if I were truly a purist, I'd call things, "Long Piece #27" or "Newest Fast Song", but I enjoy titling and it is helpful at rehearsals or when making set-lists. It adds a kind of 2nd or 3rd dimension, a perfume, to the sound. The great titlists in music-- Thelonious Monk, Bob Dylan, Alvin Lucier-- definitely added another level of poetic elegance through naming their works as they did.

David First: "A Bet on Transcendence Favors the House" from Privacy Issues

David First: A Bet on Transcendence Favors the House

Pitchfork: I'm wondering whether the tension of working alone and with others is reflected at all in the title of Privacy Issues.

DF: It could be, but I really meant that to reflect on the fact that a lot of these pieces hadn't been heard very often or at all. Some of them I had just worked on myself and not really let out into the world-- they are things I had tucked away for a long time. So it's like private music that is now being issued publicly. And also it seemed like an interesting title given all the connotations it has in our age with issues of privacy seeming to pop up constantly.

Pitchfork: Where does the title We're Here to Help come from?

DF: Well, not to make myself an easy target, but I think it's about trying to do something that'll make a positive difference in this world. The numerous ecstatic traditions-- including free jazz and funk-- have all been great inspirations in this regard. The whole "glorious noise", shamanic portals-into-other-dimensions transporting thing. Our humble intention isn't to make a racket out of mere aggression or to remind everyone how fucked up this place is. Yeah, it sure is in a lot of ways, but however naïve it sounds, or however inept the result, I think the idea is to try to alchemize the crap, not just mirror it all.

But look, possibly the only thing we Notekillers place on a higher pedestal than music is laughs, so, of course, we also know that the idea of the title is a kind of humorous futility. We are in no way super-earnest about what we do and if you see us live, you see we are cracking up during songs and saying pretty ridiculous things in-between. We're having fun. And I think kids-- especially kids in the other bands-- get all this. And, honest-to-god, I think it somehow gives them hope-- the idea that, just maybe, their life doesn't have to start sucking soon and forever. But they give us hope too. I tell people too young to know that we came up during two of the most dogmatic times in recent history-- the so-called hippie era and the punk era, both of which had a set of codes and rules that you had to look and dress and think a certain way, and for sure, to be of a certain age. And it feels like people are much more open now and willing to take anything in from anywhere. If we can give 'em something-- musical or otherwise-- they can use, I'm thrilled. I mean, we aren't necessarily trying to be role models, but if we are, that's cool.

David First performing Operation:Kracpot in Dortmund, Germany

Pitchfork: You seem to keep up with a lot of rock bands as well as composers – I've seen you cite Zs, Oneida, Weasel Walter, etc. Is it hard to find time for that?

DF: It's definitely hard. I could easily fill up each week with going to see debuts of friends' compositions alone. When you add in all of the bands I'm interested in catching and all of the improvisers that I still love, it gets almost impossibly daunting. I try to do as much as I can. But there's also work to be done and a life that I try to keep as normal as possible. So I also find myself apologizing a lot! But it is inspiring to see bands still trying to do significant and new things in the realm of sound. Most people in any category are more or less filling out the forms they've been handed. But there are always exceptional gems.

Pitchfork: Do you find much tension in moving between the worlds of rock music and what might be called more "serious" music?

DF: It's interesting, this is really the first time I've done two things so different simultaneously, and I'm digging it. For years I would have these radical pendulum swings between ways of working and this seems like a healthier, albeit sometimes more disorienting, way to go. As far as people's perceptions, there are those who know my compositional work who would never show up at a Notekillers show, and there are probably people who come to see the Notekillers who have no idea that I have this body of solo compositions. And there are people with whom I improvise who have little idea of either. But there are definitely also people, and writers, and musicians who are aware of all of my interests and are able to see the connections.

David First: "The Softening Door" from Privacy Issues

David First: The Softening Door

Pitchfork: What do you think attracts you to drones?

DF: There's just something about diving deep into the ocean of a sound. It's the difference between sticking your finger into an electrical socket and leaving it there, and just receiving intermittent jolts. You have the opportunity to entrain and resonate with the frequencies. Further, I think that the secret history of art music would reveal that rock and roll and blues had as strong an influence on the minimalists and the free jazz movement as Indian and African music did. Something about that distilled, unrelenting rhythm, the accent on unbridled sensuality and simplified harmonic structures-- if you slowed down and stretched out Bo Diddley or John Lee Hooker you'd have drone music.

Pitchfork: What are the influences on your drone pieces?

DF: It probably lies in my past, going back to growing up as a psychedelic kid. We were all suckers for that raga content back then-- anything that had that flattened-out, exotic Eastern tonality. We were listening to it even before we were old enough to, um, enhance the experience-- the Airplane, Yardbirds, Byrds, Velvets, and a great local Philly band, Mandrake Memorial. Sandy Bull and John Fahey were also huge for me. When most of these people seemed to flame out, I went elsewhere-- [John] Coltrane, Cecil [Taylor], Albert Ayler, Don Cherry, and Ornette [Coleman] and the rest of the free jazz giants.

Later on, I got deep into Terry Riley, Pauline Oliveros, David Behrman, Alvin Lucier, Phill Niblock-- the Mount Rushmore of 60s experimental composers, though I didn't really hear much by this last group until the mid-80s-- especially in the case of someone like La Monte Young-- because he and they weren't nearly as well documented. And even back in the 70s, when I hitched up to NYC from Philly in my teens and early twenties, it was still mostly to see free jazz.

Pitchfork: It sounds like there are lots of overlaps between your solo work and playing with Notekillers.

DF: There's a conscious separation there, and in some ways, never the twain...but they also feed into each other a little bit in terms of keeping me aware and in the moment. My drone composing tends to be super-considered. There is a lot of precise calculation, control, and very deliberate-- even glacial-- body movement. But it's my rock and roll background that allows me to recognize when something is really working-- that "is-ness" that I was talking about earlier. And sure, the Notekillers' music has benefited from some of the extended, experimental tricks I picked up these past few decades. Back in the day, I came up with the expression "Same Animal – Different Cages" to describe our songs. I suppose over the years I've just broadened the meaning of that. --Marc Masters